Between the Lines
by otahyoni
Summary: The war is over, and everything is changing. Milner/Sam


Written for **melroseplant**.

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**Between the Lines**

Milner followed Foyle into his sitting room and took a seat on the proffered chair, facing his host. Having dealt with the customary greetings at the door, Foyle held out a hand, and Milner handed him the case folder.

"You know," Andrew said, leaning in the doorway, "you can stop by for non-work-related reasons. He wouldn't mind."

Milner smiled, and the corner of Foyle's mouth quirked slightly.

"Haven't you got exams to study for?" the retired chief inspector asked.

Andrew laughed and turned. Milner watched him limp to the back of the house, then looked up to find Foyle doing the same.

"He came home," Foyle said quietly. An emotion flashed in his eyes, and he turned his attention to the contents of the folder.

Milner ignored an itch on the leg he'd left on a battlefield.

When he'd finished reading the case file, Foyle looked up and said, "Well?"

"I'm going to ask for a warrant to search Mayfield's house, sir," Milner said. "I just wanted to make sure the evidence supported it."

Foyle nodded and tapped the pages in his lap. "You don't have to call me 'sir.'"

"I know."

Foyle looked up, and corner of his mouth quirked again. "Yes, I think the facts support it. Though you didn't need me to tell you that."

Milner smiled and glanced at the doorway where Andrew had stood. "I'd hate for you to get bored, sir."

The older man glanced at him from the corner of his eye, that subtle quirk of the mouth taking on an entirely different meaning. "Talked to Sam lately?"

Milner blinked. "Um, yes, actually. I just saw her a couple days ago."

"Ah," Foyle said in that way that meant he knew the answer all along.

Milner sighed. "She brings me lunch on occasion. Since Jane left. I think she's afraid I'll starve."

Foyle hummed. "I think there may be more to it than that."

"Sir?"

Foyle stood and handed him the folder. "Also, Andrew's right. I wouldn't mind."

* * *

A light knock on his door pulled Milner's attention away from the report he was writing—the amount of reports that needed writing seemed to have tripled since his promotion to Inspector—and he raised his head, a smile already forming on his face.

"Hi!" Sam said. She stood in his office doorway, a now-familiar basket in her hand. Her hair curled around her shoulders, seeming even brighter against the green of her dress—his favorite.

It wasn't until she had plopped into a chair and hefted her basket up onto his desk that he realized he had a favorite.

"What have you got today?" she asked, making a face at the papers before him.

He smiled. "The usual. What have _you _got today?"

She started pulling food from the basket, telling him a story about the other secretary at the office where she now worked. Milner hastily pulled his case notes into his lap as Sam set an entire loaf of bread on his desk. The rest of his workspace was already filled with food.

"How many people are you planning on feeding today?" he asked as she unveiled a small chocolate cake.

"I have the afternoon off! We're celebrating with an indoor picnic."

He laughed, accepting the sandwich she handed him. "There's no way we can eat all this. Where did you get all this fruit?"

She paused in slicing the loaf of bread. "You do realize the war's over, right? For some time now."

He tossed a grape at her.

* * *

They only managed to eat half the food. Milner helped her pack up the leftovers, watching her, wondering.

She glanced at him, and the corners of her mouth twitched. "What?"

"What?"

"You're looking at me funny."

Milner straightened and backed up a step. "No, I'm not."

Sam laughed. "Yes, you are. What is it?"

Milner looked at her—bright, open, teasing. "Nothing. I just…I just wondered why you come."

She blinked at him and cocked her head.

"It's not that I don't like your visits," he said quickly. "I like them very much. It's very nice of you. And nice to see you." He stopped and swallowed.

"Well, I'd never see you otherwise," she said. "Are you sure you don't need a driver?"

Milner smiled. "Sadly, Sergeant Wilson is quite proficient."

"Pity." Sam picked up the basket. "I hate typing letters." She winked and turned.

"I just…" he started. Sam stopped halfway between his desk and the door. He picked up some papers and shuffled through them, then forced himself to put them down and look at her. "This is your day off," he said quietly. "Surely you have better things to do than sit in this office with me."

She looked at him for a long moment, studying his face, then said, "I can't think of anything, Paul."

Milner could feel his pulse in his fingertips. Sam stepped forward and set the picnic basket in a chair, then moved around his desk to stand in front of him. His fingers twitched.

"Well?" she asked, looking up at him, trying to hide a smile.

Suddenly he wanted to laugh, loudly, deeply, the way he laughed only when she was around.

"Me neither," he said.

She rocked up on her toes and kissed him lightly.

"Good," she said. "Then I'll see you Friday." Another brilliant smile, and she and her basket were gone.

Milner's report didn't get finished for some time.

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end

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**Disclaimer:** Not mine. 


End file.
